


Of Hell Gods and Shoddy Spells

by breakfastatmilliways



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, unadulterated ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastatmilliways/pseuds/breakfastatmilliways
Summary: A.K.A. Reasons Why Willow Rosenberg is a Fail (and should really learn to stop messing with magic that’s above her skill range)Or, the one where Phil wakes up in Sunnydale, and yeah, that would be awesome, but normally when he’d dreamt of this in his even nerdier youth, he got to meet or even date Buffy rather than taking her place in the middle of the fight with one of her most dangerous enemies. Oh, and Dan’s there too, because of course he is, and he’s a vampire, because OF COURSE he is. Thanks, universe.





	1. Welcome to Sunnydale

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and welcome to the absolute ridiculousness that is my first real entry into the Phandom. I did write a truly terrible little drabble in about twenty minutes a little while back, but I'm going to call this my first serious attempt. 
> 
> Not that it's particularly serious. Just that I'm taking it more seriously than my first 'attempt'. Ahem. This was semi beta'd and brit picked by my good buddy Snuffy, but if anyone wants to beta future parts, that would be awesomesauce. I actually just said that. OKAY.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy my indulgence into both Phan and my obsessive love of Buffy. Should be a wild ride.

_On a certain level, Willow knew that this was a terrible idea. She knew what she was capable of and what her limitations were, but she hadn’t come close to becoming a vengeance demon for no reason. She could rationalize even the worst of ideas if she could justify it as a last resort, or if it was for revenge, and this time, Glory had done the one thing that was utterly guaranteed to turn Willow into a ball of rage that was incapable of listening to her rational side. The Hell-Bitch had hurt Tara, and that was more than enough to send Willow storming into The Magic Box after hours, undoing locks with a simple wave of the hand as she went, and making a beeline for the Off Limits Area, where she knew Giles kept the most dangerous and powerful books and artifacts. The sort of magicks that could banish an enemy to a hell dimension, or tear apart and rearrange the fabric of reality._

_She had, of course, promised the one time librarian that she would never mess with these items without his permission, and even then only under the direst of circumstances._

_She still didn’t have that permission, but the circumstances seemed to be more than dire enough to her._

***

When Phil woke up in a bed that certainly wasn’t his, he initially thought that he’d somehow managed to get blackout drunk on the previous evening. This seemed like the most reasonable explanation, after all, but it was slightly undermined by the fact that he could distinctly remember everything that had happened the night before, right up to going to sleep (in his own bed, thank you very much), and at a surprisingly early hour of the evening. He was fairly sure that all he had done before bed was record some Sims 4 with Dan, and the only thing he could remember having to drink beyond a glass of water was some Ribena.

Could the Ribena have gone off? He vaguely remembered once watching a youtube video of a squirrel that had gotten drunk after eating from a fermented pumpkin, so it seemed like it was at least _possible_ , but then, you’d think he would have noticed the taste if that were the case. Even if he had somehow lost the sense of taste, Dan hadn’t said anything about it either, and he’d been drinking his own glass from the same bottle. Phil sat up in the bed, sticking his tongue out and screwing up his eyes in an attempt to look down at it, just on the chance that there was something noticeably wrong with it, like perhaps he’d burned off his tastebuds, or it had gone green. From what little he could see, his tongue appeared to be perfectly fine, and it occurred to him that this thought tangent was getting him absolutely nowhere, fast.

Shaking his head in an attempt to get his thoughts in line, Phil finally took a moment to actually look around at his surroundings. It was only now that he noticed something familiar about the room. He couldn’t place exactly why he knew it, but he did. It definitely wasn’t his room, that was for sure. He was fairly certain that he had never been here before. The recognition was more like the kind you’d get walking into someone’s room after they’d just set it up in an exact replica of the display in the front window of a furniture shop that you happened to pass on a frequent basis. It was familiar, but still utterly foreign.

He reached a hand up to blearily rub at his eyes, and that’s when he realized something even more disconcerting. He obviously wasn’t wearing his glasses, but if the lack of dryness in the eyes and slight pain was any indication, he hadn’t fallen asleep in his contacts either. So why the _heck_ could he make out every detail of the things around him, from the stitching on the beige comforter, to the little wings on the butterfly decals on the wall? This whole situation had just jumped right on the train from Confusing Town, and it was making an express journey to Weirdsville.

Phil might have been able to cope with all of this. His life was weird enough as it was, really. Sure, nothing like the spontaneous healing of his _sight_ had ever happened to him, but he had once woken up to Dan standing over his bed wearing the easter bunny mask and wielding a meat cleaver, so he couldn’t say this was all that much worse. Any chance he had of coping, however, immediately fell to bits, as the bedroom door opened and a teenage girl trudged in before flopping on the bed beside him with a heavy sigh, burying her face in one of the pillows. A very… Michelle Trachtenberg-y teenage girl. He stared at her with wide eyes for several seconds before she turned to look up at him, blinking.

“What, are you still half asleep big bro? It’s nearly one! Did some big baddie bonk you on the head on patrol last night?” She questioned, frowning slightly as she spoke, a look of slight confusion on her _incredibly_ young face, and oh Jesus, this wasn’t just a case of waking up after a drunken night with a famous actress, because she literally looked about fifteen, and Michelle Trachtenberg was older than _he_ was, but she hadn’t been nearly two decades ago when she’d first started out on _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , and oh god, that’s why the bedroom had looked familiar. He stared at Michelle- no, _Dawn_ \- for another few seconds, before flopping over backwards and laughing hysterically.

This had been all well and good, but he’d grown out of his ‘waking up in Sunnydale’ dreams years ago, thank you very much, and this one felt just a little bit too real for his liking. “Alright, waking up now, thank you!” He spoke to no one in particular, because Dawn was a figment of his imagination, so it wasn’t like he had to acknowledge her presence. Now he would wake up, just like he did just about every other time he’d come to abruptly realize that he was dreaming. He’d be back in his own bed any second now. _Any second now_.

***

An hour later, Phil found himself sitting on the equally familiar sofa of 1630 Revello Drive’s sitting room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of tea that he was pointedly ignoring in his hands. He vaguely heard Dawn pacing back and forth across the room, talking to several different people on the phone. Snippets got through the fog at him, stuff like- “Giles, I need you to get over here, now! I think something must’ve happened to Phil last night! He’s being really weird, like, even for him!”- but he was too busy counting every second that passed to laugh or be offended.

He’d never had a dream that was anywhere near this detailed. No weird time skips or location jumps. He’d heard his feet on every stair as Dawn had led him down to the sitting room earlier, and the sun streaming through the large windows had actually caused him to squint. He couldn’t remember ever noticing a glare in a dream before. Nor could he remember ever experiencing such tiny things in a dream as being poked in the butt by bits of feathery sofa stuffing, or having his hand very painfully scalded by extremely hot tea as his body gave an involuntary shudder, causing the mug to shake in his grip, and okay, _that_ got a response out of him.

“Ow!” He yelped, flinging the mug out of his hand and watching as it sailed across the room rather farther than he was usually able to throw something, only to shatter against the wall. He blinked at the mess he’d managed to make, gears turning in his head. Suddenly the improved eyesight and the fact that Dawn kept insistently calling him ‘bro’ made sense, and oh, oh _no_ , even if he apparently had the raw strength, he definitely didn’t have the coordination to slay vampires. He finally turned his attention back to Dawn, who was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. “Er… I’ll clean it up?” He offered lamely. In response, she just urged whoever she was currently on the phone with to get over _right now_ and hung up. She crossed the room and stared at him, her expression one of unmasked worry as she reached out to put her hand on his forehead, and oh good, as if this endless dream wasn’t already realistic enough, that hand also felt entirely too real.

“Phil, you’re really freaking me out, okay? What happened last night? Is it… I mean, I know you’re stressed about taking care of the house, and the mortgage, and- and mom- and-” That’s when the sniffling started, and Phil really didn’t think he could cope with it if this poor girl started to cry, even if she was just a product of his weird, twisted psyche, and he pulled her into a very awkward hug, cringing slightly when he found himself giving her a stilted pat on the back of all things. To his utter horror, this backfired on him as Dawn simply threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, sobbing loudly.

It would seem that even this subconscious vampire slayer version of Phil was completely incapable of dealing with basic human interaction.

***

Phil couldn’t have been more relieved when the familiar face of Anthony Stewart Head-no, Giles- burst through the front door and headed immediately into the sitting room, panting as if he’d run a marathon to get there. The fact that this was yet another _character_ from his teenage obsession that was standing before him certainly didn’t escape him, and that was still completely bizarre, but at least this character was a knowledgeable and collected adult, and not a fifteen year old girl that wouldn’t stop using the sleeve of his t-shirt as her own personal hankie. He looked up at Giles helplessly, waving around his noodle arms in a desperate plea for assistance, before the dapper older man moved over and seated himself on the sofa beside them, swiftly pulling Dawn into his own arms instead. “She sounded distraught enough over the phone, I left Anya in charge of the shop and came as swiftly as I could. What happened, Phil?”

Although Phil opened his mouth to answer honestly, that he seemed to be stuck in some endless nightmare, he quickly closed it again, thinking better of it. If he was going to be stuck in this dream for an unknown length of time, it seemed like it would be a much better idea to just play along rather than continuing to make things more and more uncomfortable for him and the dream figments involved. He thought quickly and then cleared his throat before giving a vague excuse that sounded lame even to his own ears. “Oh, you know. I was out slaying loads of things that needed slaying last night and got a bit of a bump to the old noggin.” He tapped at the side of his head, as if a visual aid were in any way necessary. “Just feel in a fog and sort of…. Woozly.” He made a show of wobbling slightly in his seat, before ‘catching’ himself and straightening up again.

“Alright. You really must be more careful, you know.” Giles responded, sounding utterly exhausted as he moved the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Dawn up to push his glasses up and rub at the bridge of his nose. “You have more duties than just your job as the slayer now. You have to remember that. You’re all the family Dawn has now, and while you know I’ll always do everything I can to assist you, I can’t always be here for you. You’re going to have to start stepping up more.”

Phil simply stared at him for several seconds as he realized the implications of what Giles was saying. Not only had he taken the place of Buffy Summers in this dream, but it was apparently during what was literally the _most depressing and overwhelming period of the show_ after the death of her mother. He made a mental note to never rewatch season five again, if this was the kind of thing his subconscious was going to do to him. Instead of responding verbally, he just nodded, his best solemn expression on his face, and Giles sighed.

“Right. Well, if you’re injured, you really should just get a good night’s sleep tonight. We can’t risk you patrolling if you might be concussed.” The older man murmured, continuing to rub at Dawn’s back in a manner that looked _far_ more comforting than Phil’s awkward pats had been. The teen was now just sniffling quietly rather than sobbing, anyway. Giles stared up at the ceiling for several seconds, before shaking his head slightly and speaking again, seemingly thinking out loud. “Willow is… in no state to be patrolling in your stead. Not since Tara… and I don’t think any of us trust Xander to do the job on his own.” Phil held back a snort at that, which Giles did not fail to notice. He gave a half smile, which quickly faded as he continued to talk. “You know I… truly _detest_ the thought of going to...  _him,_  for help, but… It might be wise for you to have a word with Dan about patrolling for you. I’m sure even if he’s in a contrary mood, he’ll do it if you mention what a state Dawn is in.”

Phil was on his feet and headed for the door about halfway through this last bit of Giles’ advice, having decided the moment that he heard the name ‘Dan’ in there that even a dream version of Dan would be a comfort to him in this mess he seemed to have found himself in. Giles raised an eyebrow, staring up at him, and he felt himself going a bit pink for reasons that he couldn’t quite place. He was getting a weird look from a _fictional character_ , what reason could he possibly have to be embarrassed. “Oh… Just seems like that’s the best plan for now! Might as well get it out of the way so I haven’t got to worry about it later. I’ll just pop over to Dan’s… Dan’s, er-” He trailed off as he realized that he had absolutely no idea where to look for this version of Dan.

Giles stared at him for a long moment before filling in that blank for him. “His crypt.” He said evenly, pausing a moment before continuing. “Are you quite sure you’re alright to go there now, Phil? You still seem a bit... Well, you haven’t even changed out of your pajamas.” Phil glanced down at himself before deciding that being seen in public in his own dream wearing a t-shirt and tartan pajama bottoms was far from the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“Nah, you know, I’ll probably just get right back in bed when I get back so if you could just, watch Dawn while I run over there, I’ll be back in a flash.” He spoke quickly, and rushed out the front door before Giles could argue. It was only as his legs began to carry him, almost automatically, in the direction of the cemetery, that he actually thought about what Giles had just said. 

Dan’s crypt. If he was taking the place of Buffy, then logically, it seemed to him that Dan must also be in the place of a character in this universe, and between the crypt and the absolute loathing that he’d noticed in Giles’ voice, he suddenly had a feeling that he knew exactly which character that was. He nearly turned around and walked right back into the house, before letting out a loud sigh and continuing in the direction he’d been heading.

Even if Dan was a vampire, would Phil’s subconscious really make him into the sort of vampire that would try to kill him?

...Oh, who was he kidding? With any luck, he’d wake up after being eaten.

***

If waking up in Buffy’s house had been strange, the walk through Sunnydale’s cemetery was an even more powerful experience in nostalgia, if slightly off putting, because most of the scenes taking place there had been at night. He found that he knew the way to his destination without even really thinking about it, and he arrived at the familiar looking crypt in no time, only to hesitate outside of it for several minutes, unsure of just why he was so nervous about knocking on the stone door. The thought that this version of Dan might be a bit more Spike than Dan, and therefore openly and actually quite disturbingly in lust with the Slayer (i.e. _him_ ) tickled at the back of his mind, but he refused to acknowledge the possibility. That would absolutely take an already uncomfortable dream about ten levels past uncomfortable and into mortifying beyond belief.

Just as he brought up his hand to knock, the door was pulled open, and there was Dan, looking exactly as he always did. At least, mostly. Dan’s face didn’t usually start smoking when it was hit by a bit of indirect sunlight. “SHITTING, COCKSUCKING- FUCK!” He screeched, throwing his arms up in front of his face as he hurled himself back into the shadows of the crypt. Phil was quick to follow and shut the door behind him, suddenly a lot less nervous that this dream was about to turn into an even bigger nightmare or uncomfortable vampire erotica. Dan sounded like… Dan. Made sense really, given how well Phil knew him, and suddenly he couldn’t help but laugh. Dan looked up at him, scowling from where he was lying on the stone floor, his face still giving off a few wisps of smoke. “Oh, right, _thanks_ , Phil. Go right ahead, laugh at my agony.”

Phil gave him an apologetic smile, although he knew it probably wasn’t convincing, since he was still chuckling to himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just nice to see a familiar face. One that’s not familiar from my DVD box set. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Your day’s been hell? I’ve just been stuck here! Thought I’d been kidnapped by bloody Jigsaw until I found the door, and then what happens? I nearly get _killed by the sun_!” Dan punctuated this little rant by rolling over onto his stomach and letting out an extremely loud yell, which was only slightly muffled by the stone underneath him. Instinctively, Phil closed the distance between them, sitting down cross legged on the floor beside him, and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, because even if this wasn’t actually Dan, he couldn’t seem to help trying to comfort him.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I got snotted on by a little girl, look! Genuine child snot and tears!” He waited for Dan to finally quiet down a bit and look up at him, before gesturing at the nasty crusty bit that had formed on the sleeve of his t-shirt. As he predicted, Dan responded by snorting and making a face.

“God, why did you let a child use you for a hanky? That is _completely_ disgusting.” Dan mumbled, still not getting up from his position on the floor, but at least he was no longer screaming into the floor.

“Well, it wasn’t really a random child. It was Dawn Summers. She thought I was her brother, so I’m apparently Buffy. The man version.” He made a half hearted point to flex his bicep, before simply letting his arm flop back down into his lap. “Pretty sure I’m dreaming, but it’s still fairly surreal.” He paused for a moment, before realizing that even a dream version of Dan would probably have an existential crisis at the implication that he wasn’t real. “Some kind of shared dream, I mean.”

Dan stared up at him for a moment, before reaching out and unceremoniously pinching Phil, _hard,_ on the thigh.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Always works when people are dreaming in the movies. In any event, it seems to be evidence for my theory, that we’ve both just hit a simultaneous mental break.”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil went quiet a moment, wracking his brain for the term that he vaguely remembered, both from French class and from the Fall Out Boy album title. “Menage a trois.” He knew even as he was speaking that the words he had found were not even remotely right, but his mouth had always worked a little bit faster than his brain. Dan let out a groan, as if he was in pain.

“Oh my _god_ , Phil! Stop talking! You mean folie à deux!”

Suddenly, it was as if the hysteria of these recent events became too much, and Phil was suddenly laughing too hard to stay upright. He flopped onto his back next to Dan as the laughter overtook him, eventually fading into vaguely manic giggles.

By the time he managed to get himself under control again, it occurred to him that while Dan had initially been laughing as well, his friend had fallen silent well before he did. He flicked his eyes over to Dan, only to be met with the most intense gaze that he’d ever seen leveled in his direction. “Uh… You okay there, Danny boy?” He questioned a bit awkwardly as he attempted to decipher what exactly the expression he was seeing was. It almost looked like lust, and for a moment, he thought it was, as Dan surged toward him, but then the brow ridges and ugly teeth appeared, and oh, _duh._ It wasn’t lust, it was hunger. Trust Phil to completely forget that his friend was now a vampire within the span of about ten seconds.

He just hoped he’d been right about the whole ‘waking up after getting eaten’ theory.


	2. Spaghetti and Domesticity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally intended for this thing to be short. Like, one shot, short. Maybe a couple chapters. 
> 
> OOPS. That sure ain't happening! 
> 
> My beta wasn't feeling the best, so fair warning that this is unbeta'd, but I wanted to post it anyway. I did give it a read through, but I often miss my own mistakes. 
> 
> So I guess, prepare for an unbeta'd slew of stupidity and maybe some feels. 
> 
> Also, HEY if anyone wants to follow me on tumblr ya'll can find me @breakfastatmilliways and I will follow back one and all because I need me some more phans up in my feed. 
> 
> Also, pig's blood.

Really, Phil probably _could_ have defended himself more. He might not have had the best reaction time, but he still obviously had slayer strength, so there was surely more he could have done than just letting out a shriek and holding up his hands in a rather pathetic defense against the attack he knew was coming.

Or that he’d _thought_ was coming, as instead of the expected attack, he just heard a loud yelp, and he lowered his hands in time to see Dan collapsing into fetal position, letting loose a slew of profanity as he clutched his head at the temples. His face had smoothed back into the way it normally looked and after a moment, his body relaxed slightly again, although he was still breathing hard.

“Dan? You alright?” Most people would probably have just run away upon realizing that their best friend was now a man eater who apparently considered them a meal. Phil obviously was not most people, as he instead just reached out to brush Dan’s short fringe out of his eyes. Dan promptly jumped away from him as if he’d been scalded, an impressive act to see, actually, given that he’d never seen Dan move with even a fraction of that speed in all the years he’d known him. Dan was on his feet now and backing up, until he hit the wall of the crypt.

“Jesus fucking christ, _what the hell was that?_ ” He questioned, sounding more than a bit panicked. Phil wasn’t entirely sure what to tell him, until he realized that this was Spike’s crypt, really, and Dan was in Spike’s place in this world, so it stood to reason that he might have inherited a few other things from the ‘Big Bad’ as well. Namely the implant that the shady government secret team had ‘gifted’ Spike to prevent him trying to harm humans.

“I think you’re sort of… Spike.” He offered by way of explanation, and Dan just narrowed his eyes at him.

“Great. That really helps, Phil. I know _exactly_  what’s going on now.”

“Well, I mean, you showed up in his crypt. You’ve probably got his government implant.”

It took a moment before the realization dawned on Dan’s face; while he liked _Buffy_ , and the two of them  had marathoned the entire series more than once during their years living together, he’d never quite reached Phil’s level of childhood obsession. “Right, so every time I try to so much as punch you, I’m going to suffer from a sudden case of Exploding Head Syndrome.” He was mumbling, his voice sounding just about as exhausted as Phil was feeling. Funny thing, feeling genuinely tired in a dream. (The alternative explanation, that this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t one that Phil was quite ready to acknowledge).

“Guess you’ll just have to avoid punching me for now. Can’t say I’m complaining.” He commented in a teasing voice, attempting to lighten the mood. As he spoke, he got to his feet and took a step toward Dan, watching as his friend went rigid and seemed to try to back up even further despite the wall that was blocking his escape. He immediately paused in his approach, frowning. “Look, I’m pretty sure you can resist the urge to try to eat me again, Dan.”

“Fifty pounds says I can’t.” Dan was laughing as he spoke, but it was more of an ‘oh god I think I’ve lost it’ laugh than a ‘haha I am so funny, my own jokes absolutely slay me’ sort of one. “I can literally see your pulse from over here, but that’s not even half as bad as the _smell_.”

“Are you implying that I need a shower? Because you’re probably right.” Phil knew that this was in no way what Dan was implying, not if the look in his eyes was any indication, but he couldn’t help trying once more to break up some of the ridiculous tension in the air. When Dan just glared at him in response, he sighed. “Okay. So I’ve got slayer blood. I’m the Bella to _every_  vampire’s Edward. You can handle it.”

Dan shook his head, but couldn’t help giving a bit of a snort, and Phil knew that his utterly stupid references were saving the day once again. He decided to risk another few steps forward, and while Dan suddenly winced and grabbed at his temple again, he wasn’t doubled over in pain this time, so that seemed like an improvement. Dan still glared at him when he looked up again, the pain seemingly having faded. “You’re a complete asshole. Go away.”

“It’s called exposure therapy, Dan.” He replied as he took another step, finally closing the distance between them and reaching out to prod Dan in the chest. He did feel a little bit bad when Dan gave another yell, squeezing his eyes shut at the contact, but the pain seemed to pass even more quickly this time, at least. “You’ll thank me when you can stop picturing me as a giant bag of Maltesers.”

“Fuck off.” His friend mumbled, opening his eyes again and taking a deep breath, before shuddering and looking pointedly up at the ceiling. “ _Please_ fuck off.”

Deciding that this was probably enough progress for the time being, Phil listened this time, backing away. The moment he did, Dan gave a sigh of relief and slid down the wall until he was seated on the floor. His entire body gave a noticeable shudder before he spoke again. “I don’t know how you’ve convinced the world that you’re such a sweetheart for all these years. You’re an absolutely terrible person.”

Phil just laughed in response to this rather than arguing, and took a moment to explore the crypt, because he seemed to recall that there should have been something there that would make the situation a little more bearable for Dan, and bingo, there was a mini fridge tucked in the corner, being powered by who knows what. He headed over and shuffled through the contents moving aside bottles of booze until he found what he was looking for; a tupperware container of what looked to be blood of some sort. Most likely pig. He grabbed it and then made his way back over to Dan before holding it out in offering. “Might help if you eat something.”

Dan accepted the tupperware before he even looked at it, and when he did, he made a disgusted face. “You expect me to drink _that_?”

“Would you rather starve?”

“ _Yes_.” Dan replied emphatically, although he went against his own words as he peeled off the top of the container to give the somewhat congealed contents a sniff, his face immediately wrinkling as he did. He gave the container a bit of a shake. “God, look at it, it’s like jelly. This is the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever considered putting in my mouth…” He paused, letting out a sigh, before adding, “That’s what she said.”

Phil couldn’t help but stare as Dan took a tiny sip, and suddenly the vamp face was back, the brow ridges forming almost instantaneously as he began to actually chug the somewhat gelatinous contents, and yeah, there was only so much of that Phil could watch before he began to feel a bit ill, so he looked away with a grimace. He kept his gaze averted until he heard the sound of the empty container hitting the floor, and he looked back in time to see Dan, looking like his old self again, wipe the dark blood from his mouth with his sleeve.

“Better?” Phil asked, voice gentle.

“Physically? Yes. Mentally? Not really, no. Worse, if anything.” Dan sighed, looking up at Phil. “This really doesn’t feel like a dream. A bit like maybe I’ve done _all the drugs_ , but not like a dream.”

Phil really wished that Dan hadn’t voiced that particular concern, because he’d been doing his best to avoid thinking about it, but it was getting harder and harder to deny the fact that if this had been a dream, he really should have woken up by now. After a short pause where he considered just how stupid it would be for him to act on his current urge, he moved to sit against the wall beside Dan, allowing their knees to touch, because the slight bit of personal contact seemed like it would help him avoid panicking. To his relief, Dan stiffened slightly, but didn’t seem to get zapped by the chip, and after a moment he relaxed again, settling back against the wall and bouncing his knee against Phil’s, obviously full of nervous energy.

“You’re right, of course.” Phil finally admitted, chewing slightly at his bottom lip as he stared up at the dark stone ceiling. “Didn’t feel like a dream to begin with, really, but I thought if I kept insisting it was, I’d eventually wake up. It’s just too real.”

“Yeah, and I definitely just drank _real_ pig’s blood. Cold, clumpy pig’s blood. Nicely aged in a fine plastic tub.” Dan replied, sounding more than a bit disgusted with himself even as he spoke. On a whim, Phil reached over to Dan’s hand, lacing their fingers together before his friend could protest. The bouncing of Dan’s knee against his own immediately stopped, and although Phil was still staring up at the ceiling rather than looking at Dan, he could feel him go rigid once again. Dan didn’t rip his hand away, though. Instead he just gave Phil’s a hard squeeze, and let out a shuddering breath that he had obviously been holding back. Phil knew right away that he’d made the right call there, as Dan had obviously been needing that physical reassurance just as badly as he did, even if neither of them was willing to vocalize it.

He stayed silent, simply listening to Dan’s breathing beside him, and wondering vaguely why vampires even needed to breathe. They were technically dead, after all, and he knew from that whole bit in _Angel_ when the titular character had been stuck in a safe at the bottom of the ocean that they definitely didn’t need oxygen to keep existing. He supposed maybe it was just force of habit, left over from when they’d been alive, or just a necessity that came with the territory if being a predator with a strong sense of smell. You couldn’t really follow a scent unless you breathed it in, after all, and without exhaling, wouldn’t all that inhaling eventually just cause the vampire in question’s lungs to blow up like a pair of balloons? Wouldn’t they eventually pop?

“Do you think lions would still breathe if they didn’t have to in order to survive?” He found himself asking before even consciously deciding to, and Dan immediately cracked up beside him.

“We’re stuck in a fucking Joss Whedon series and you’re asking vaguely existential questions about lions? What is _wrong_ with you?” He questioned, although despite his somewhat harsh words, his tone was affectionate. Phil finally turned his gaze from the ceiling and back to Dan, who was grinning ear to ear, and seemed to be suffering from a serious case of the old ‘Heart Eyes Howell’, as the internet liked to call that particular expression.

“I ask the important questions that no one else will ask!” Phil defended, laughing too, as Dan’s laughter had always been completely contagious to him. Things immediately took a decidedly less pleasant turn as Dan went to give him a playful slap to the chest out of force of habit, and then he was immediately yelping again as the instantaneous shock went off in his head before his hand could even connect with its target. “Dan! I wasn’t kidding when I said you couldn’t go around hitting me!”

“This is so unfair! Why is it you get to be the badass vampire slayer who could hit me as much as you please, while I’m stuck as a bloody _defanged vampire_.”

“...Well, you’re really more of a Spike than an Angel, in terms of personality. More loud and sarcastic than quiet and flat out brooding.”

“Who said I had to be _either of them_?”

“The Powers That Be, I guess?”

Dan just groaned instead of responding, and Phil couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his frustration. Maybe Dan was right about him being a terrible person.

***

It was amazing how much more comfortable Phil felt in a cool, dark crypt in the middle of a cemetery than he had in the bright, cheery looking Summers’ home, but for the first time since he had woken up in Buffy’s bed, he managed to completely lose track of time as he and Dan simply argued and chatted away about everything and nothing. By the time it occurred to him that Giles and Dawn were probably wondering where he was, a glance out the door of the crypt revealed that the sun had already set.

He turned to Dan, who had stayed at the far corner of the stone room, obviously concerned that he’d be hit by sunlight again if he’d followed him, and frowned. “Considering I left them thinking I was possibly concussed, I should probably be getting back there before the Watcher shows up with a bandoleer of stakes and holy water.” He reasoned quietly, although he made no moves to actually leave. Upon seeing that it was now safe to be near the door, Dan had followed after him almost immediately, and was now leaning against the wall just to the side of the entrance, brow slightly furrowed.

“Right. I should probably just stay here, then.” He murmured after a fairly lengthy silence passed between them. He couldn’t have made it more obvious how little he liked the idea if he’d tried.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Phil agreed, before reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Dan’s wrist, pulling him out the door after him. Dan followed without complaint, although Phil did hear him mutter something about Phil being a spoon under his breath.

Despite Phil’s claim that he was probably being missed back at the Summers’ house, they didn’t head there immediately. Dan had reached into the pockets of his dementor coat, only to discover a few hand carved stakes inside, and the two of them had immediately decided that if they were going to be stuck here for long, they should probably practice the whole ‘slaying’ thing without being under the prying eyes of the entire Scooby gang. Besides, considering Giles seemed to be under the impression that Dan was every bit as reprehensible and annoying as the real Spike, ‘we went on patrol’ seemed like a much better excuse as to why Phil was so late than ‘we lost track of time talking about how on earth someone once looked at an aubergine and thought ‘I shall call it an aubergine!’’.

The slaying practice was… not exactly what one would likely call successful. Phil did indeed have the slayer strength, and Dan wasn’t lacking in any of the classic vampire abilities, but their sedentary lifestyle wasn’t exactly helping when it came to fighting _well_. Phil nearly found himself taken down by a fledgling vamp that wasn’t even more than halfway out of the ground yet, simply because he’d managed to trip over an exposed tree root and basically fell face first into the newborn’s grasp.

Dan was reasonably more successful, as he managed to shove a stake through the fledgling's back before it could actually sink its fangs into Phil’s throat, but he had apparently forgotten that a staked vampire would turn into a cloud of dust, which he inhaled, causing a coughing fit that led to him kicking Phil in the side by accident, and resulting in a powerful blast of pain to his head that immediately rendered him prone on the ground beside Phil, cursing.

By the time they made their weary way up the porch steps of the house, they had managed to slay five vampires, one of which even seemed to have been undead for more than a day, and who was therefore a bit more of a challenge than the fledgelings they’d stumbled across had been. They were certainly looking the worse for wear, though. Phil was fairly certain he’d cracked a few ribs, and that the only reason he was still standing was the fact that his slayer powers were already beginning to heal the wounds. He was also sporting a black eye that was already beginning to fade, and he would definitely need to find a first aid kit for the gash on his arm he had received courtesy of a stake from Dan, who had rather widely missed his mark while trying to stake one of the fledglings.

Dan, for his part, looked a bit less beat up, but he winced with every step he took, as if the incredibly frequent brain zapping he’d received as a result of his frequent accidental attacks on Phil had caused some kind of permanent ache behind his eyes.

They had both agreed to claim that they’d come across some sort of particularly nasty demon, because admitting that these injuries were the work of a bunch of newborn vamps was decidedly too embarrassing. Phil headed into the house first, but he paused as he heard Dan stop abruptly behind him. He turned back to look at what had caused the delay, and saw Dan simply standing in the doorway, looking utterly confused. As Phil watched, he tried again to step forward, only to be rocked back, almost as if he’d just walked into the glass door to their kitchen. After a moment, he understood. “Come on in, Dan. You’re invited.”

Dan looked at him in confusion for a moment, before it seemed to click in his head too, and he stepped across the threshold without any further trouble. Or at least, without any further trouble from the house. They both turned just in time to see Giles stepping out of the living room, and the watcher did not look entirely pleased.

“What happened to ‘I’ll be back in a flash, Giles!’, hm?” He questioned, leveling Phil with the sort of gaze that only a truly disappointed parent could muster with that much success. “And why in God’s name have you brought _him_ into this house?” As he spoke, he gestured vaguely in Dan’s direction, although he didn’t bother looking at him.

“We had a little trouble with a, er-” Phil wracked his brain, trying to come up with the name of some kind of demon that might be viewed as particularly dangerous. The first one that came to mind had only been vaguely mentioned once or twice, as far as he could remember, but he did think that it had at least been referred to as incredibly big. “Chirago demon. Just wandering around the cemetery, can you imagine?” It seemed he’d hit on a good species, if the sudden look of surprise on Giles’ face was any indication. “Dan wanted to tag along. Check in on Dawn, make sure I got back safely.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re alright, then.” The older man finally said with a sigh, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them- a habit that Phil remembered he often did during stressful situations on the show. “And… thank you, Dan. I assure you that Dawn is quite alright. I take it you’ll be going, now?”

“He’s going to stay the night, actually.” Phil piped up immediately, before Dan could respond. He’d heard the intake of breath from his companion as he’d prepared to speak, and he knew how Dan could get when he let his temper get the best of him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a bit the worse for wear, here. That demon could have brought friends, and I don’t really trust myself to protect Dawn right now. Not by myself. You said it yourself, I need rest tonight.”

Giles looked like he wanted to shut down that idea immediately, but instead he just frowned. “Are you certain that’s a good idea, Phil? Surely Dawn will be fine if I’m here to help you. Xander and Anya would come to assist if we need it as well.”

“If I want to help, and Phil wants me to help, I’m going to fucking _help_. Besides, I can’t hurt anyone even if I wanted to. It would seem that I’m _neutered_.” Dan commented calmly from behind Phil, and Phil couldn’t help but smile a bit at the fact that he’d managed to say that in such a pleasant, polite tone. Giles’ gaze flicked back and forth between them, as if he was trying to solve some sort of puzzle, but hadn’t quite found all of the pieces yet. After a moment, he simply shrugged.

“You’re a grown man, Phil. You’re free to make your own decisions, even if some of those decisions might be mistakes.” His frown deepened, and he shook his head. “I should really be checking in at the shop. Dawn’s in her room. Seems like that emotional release really tired her out. If anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate to call me again.” With that, he clapped a hand on Phil’s shoulder for a moment, then walked past him and out the door, after casting one more concerned glance in Dan’s direction.

“I always liked Giles as a character, but when you’re the one he’s shitting on, Jesus, he is an absolute _cunt_.” Dan commented as soon as the door shut, and Phil immediately started laughing, wincing as doing so hurt his still healing ribs.

“Felt like he was my dad, except my actual dad’s _never_ been that terrifyingly judgmental of my friends.” He agreed, wheezing slightly as he tried to get both his laughter and the pain in his chest under control. “Almost felt like he was going to pull out a shotgun and tell you not to mess with his ‘pretty young daughter’.” He affected a Texan twang to this last bit.

“The shells would’ve been doused with holy water, I bet.” Dan agreed, nodding vigorously. Before Phil could respond, a sudden blur made its way down the stairs, proving itself to be Dawn as the young girl suddenly threw her arms around Dan’s neck with an excited squeal.

“Dan! Phil gave you back your invite?! Does this mean he changed his mind about going out with you?!” Between the sudden glomp and the high pitched yelling, it took both of them a moment to realize exactly what it was that Dawn had just said.

“Uh, no. There’s some nasty stuff out tonight, so Dan’s helping to make sure nothing happens to you.” Phil was quick to respond, although he noticed with no small bit of interest that it was apparently possible for a vampire to go red in the face.

***

The next few hours passed more or less uneventfully. Once you got past the fact that they were sitting around a dining room table in a fictional town, playing monopoly with a fictional character, it was actually fairly boring. Especially because Dan had almost immediately lucked into both of the blue spaces, and he was being an absolute braggart about the fact that that he was the richest landowner at the table and would soon drive both Phil and Dawn into bankruptcy. By the fifth time Phil landed on Park Place, he nearly _had_ gone bankrupt, and he immediately decided that he’d had his fill of Monopoly.

Calls of ‘sore loser’ followed him to the kitchen, where he immediately started rummaging through the cupboards because he had suddenly realized he was ravenous. He’d just put on some water to boil for pasta, having found a box of noodles and some marinara sauce at the back of one of the cupboards, when Dan followed him in and gently pushed him out of the way to stir in the pasta himself as the water began to boil. It had long become an unspoken rule in their flat that Dan would usually be the one to stir hot things, because he was marginally less likely to wind up with third degree burns by doing so.

Phil dug through the fridge and freezer in search of some sort of vegetable to go with it, but it seemed as though this house had seen better days in terms of being stocked with food. He only found a single clove of garlic, and he shrugged before crushing it and spreading it onto a few slices of bread with a bit of butter, before popping the first two into the toaster oven on the counter. He paused, staring at the two uncooked slices of garlic bread before him, before picking one up and stepping over to Dan in order to wave it under his nose, “What do you think of this?” He questioned curiously. Dan gave a sniff and scrunched up his face.

“A lot more pungent than I’m used to, but it’s not unpleasant. There’s a mystery solved.” They both laughed a bit, because they’d once had a discussion about Buffy’s vampires and how the classic weaknesses that were never mentioned on the show or in the comics might have affected them. The garlic debate had been a lengthy one.

The sound of Dawn clearing her throat broke them out of their quiet bit of nerdiness, and they both turned to see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, staring at them, with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you _sure_ you’re not dating?” She asked, looking for all the world like she was already convinced, no matter what they might have said to the contrary.

Phil took a moment to consider the image they made from an outsider’s perspective- standing a bit too close, joking around and acting playful with food, and generally being the picture of domesticity rather than two enemies that were being forced to co-exist. He coughed awkwardly and took two big steps away from Dan, putting all of his attention into the garlic toast that he was now pulling out of the oven to replace with the uncooked pieces. “We’re definitely not, Dawn. Don’t you have homework or something?”

Dawn gave a huff and turned to storm out of the room, every bit the picture of an annoyed teenager. If he and Dan proceeded to finish cooking while pointedly avoiding any sort of eye contact, well, neither of them mentioned it.

***

Phil sat in the sitting room for the second time that day, staring at the television, which was absolutely _ancient_ , and trying to make sense of what his life had managed to become in the span of less than twenty four hours. Dawn was sitting on the floor with Dan, who was being amazingly tolerant in letting the girl give him a manicure (so long as she painted his nails black, like the empty space where his soul should have been, as he so charmingly put it), and she seemed to be in a much better mood than she had been at any other point in the day.

It was amazing how quickly they had both come to care about her feelings. Phil supposed it was only natural, given that Dawn, while occasionally annoying, had been one of the most important and openly emotional aspects of the show, so they’d probably come in already caring more than they otherwise would have. Watching a character on TV wasn’t really all that different than getting to know a vlogger through their youtube videos, he thought, chancing a glance at Dan, who caught his gaze and held up his left hand, which was finished and surprisingly well done. “Totally sexy, right?” He questioned with a laugh, and Phil grinned right back at him. Dawn looked back and forth between the two of them, before rolling her eyes and putting the finishing touches on Dan’s right hand.

“Okay, you two are starting to make me sick, so I’m going to bed. Don’t be too loud if you start making out or something, I have school tomorrow.” With that, she got to her feet and walked out of the room. They both remained silent, simply listening to her make her way up the stairs, and once again avoiding eye contact.

They were used to the fans and their shipping. It was a bit different to be told multiple times in one day by someone who had no obsessive investment in the idea that they seemed like that much of a couple.

Trying to look anywhere but at Dan, Phil’s eyes eventually fell on the wall clock, and he groaned. “It’s nearly two AM. She should have been in bed hours ago, shouldn’t she have? _I_ should have been in bed hours ago.”

“You’re a grown man, Phil. You don’t have a bedtime, and she isn’t actually your sister or your responsibility.” Dan responded, a bit of a frustrated tone to his voice. Phil couldn’t quite figure out what that was about.

“Still. I’ve been trying to sleep earlier.” He responded, getting to his feet and stretching. “Should probably at least try to get some sleep.”

“Right.” Dan mumbled, finally looking up at him again, although he didn’t move to get up too, staying cross legged on the ground. “I’ll just… take the sofa.”

Part of Phil wanted to tell him not to be silly. They’d shared beds plenty of times before, after all, and honestly, when he was this far out of his element, he wanted that closeness. As much as he wanted to, though, he couldn’t bring himself to say any of this. Not for the first time, he wondered if they had been right in the unspoken decision they had made back on the first day they’d met in person. As he usually did when that thought entered his head, he pushed it aside as best he could, before simply turning and heading for the stairs. “Alright. Night, Dan.”

“Night, Phil.” Dan called after him, and Phil heard him getting to his feet to move to the sofa even as he started his way up the stairs.

Phil sighed. He had a feeling this was going to be yet another sleepless night.


	3. In Which I Fail at Titles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta, @yourfaceismusic on tumblr. 
> 
> I have been so lazy, but I've finally finished this bit.
> 
> Warning that this chapter contains examples of how douchy Buffy's vampires could be. It also veers toward smut while not getting full on smutty.
> 
> This one was a bit shorter than I intended, and I apologize for that. There shall be more later!
> 
> Also, kudos are all well and good, but comments and criticism are my favorite.

Predictably enough, Dan wasn’t having much luck with the whole ‘sleep’ thing either. 

Not to say that this was anything new, of course... More a regular part of Dan’s occasionally frustrating existence. It was far more common for him to suffer from a bout of insomnia than fall asleep easily, but this time it was different. 

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t sleep… he felt utterly wrong even  _ trying _ . He’d flopped onto the sofa willingly enough, but over an hour later, he was still fidgeting around, staring up through the darkness of the room at the ceiling. He couldn’t help stressing out about the fact that it felt far too bright to close his eyes, despite the fact that the only light around was coming from the moon peaking through the house’s front window. 

It was like trying to take a nap with all of his lights on at two in the afternoon after indulging in far too much caffeine. 

Another few minutes of discomfort passed, and then Dan was on his feet, pacing around the room, occasionally making his way into the front hall and then back into the sitting room, because regardless of what his brain wanted his body wanted to be moving. He could hear too many little sounds. Dawn was snoring softly in her room up the stairs, and he could hear every intake of breath and exhale, despite the fact that her door was shut. 

Phil wasn’t sleeping either; that much was certain. Dan could hear the creaking of the bed in the room above as his friend shifted, far too often and far too mechanically to simply be the natural movement of someone who was sleeping. He couldn’t blame him- he didn’t really think that he would have been able to sleep even if he wasn’t suddenly even more literally nocturnal than he had always been. 

Honestly, Dan was a little bit jealous of Phil. This situation was weird enough for both of them, but Phil didn’t have to deal with the shit that Dan was suddenly dealing with. Like the fact that upon hearing what he presumed was a cat scurrying in the bushes outside, he suddenly felt compelled to slip out the front door and rip its throat out with his teeth. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to be disgusted by the thought, beyond the fact that he figured the blood probably wouldn’t taste very good. It struck him, logically, that this wasn’t exactly a normal thing for him to be thinking, but he just didn’t seem to care. He didn’t seem to care about a whole lot, really. 

He sort of thought he should have felt more guilty about the fact that he’d helped off several living -well, undead- things that evening, but there wasn’t even a tiny blip about it on his guilt radar. Apart from the fact that he’d injured himself multiple times, and his head was still a bit sore from all of the zaps, it had even been sort of fun. An adrenaline rush. That was weird, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he have found that weird? 

That wasn’t the only thing that should have felt weird but didn’t either. Namely the fact that he was actually feeling pretty annoyed at having been relegated to the sofa. 

He and Phil weren’t a thing. They were very pointedly not a thing. While they had only once even edged on discussing it, way back on that first night in Phil’s childhood bedroom, Dan was fairly certain that they were still on the same page about that fact. He had still started to quietly seethe at the first denial about it from Phil, and a little voice in the back of his mind was still grumbling about it. 

Sure, there were  _ multitudinous  _ reasons for the decision that they had made all those years ago. Even then they had been in something of a spotlight. Privacy would be a hard thing to maintain, especially with the way that their channels were growing. More importantly, neither of them had ever made a connection with another person quite like the one that they’d been forming since they’d started talking, and adding a sexual aspect to their new relationship had seemed like a very good way to ruin it despite any attraction they might have had (okay, definitely had). 

Dan had honestly been pretty convinced he’d even managed to push said attraction out of his mind but apparently not. At least not now that his new lack of a soul seemed to have  _ dramatically _ lowered his inhibitions. His biological urges seemed to be doing a lot more of the thinking for him than he usually allowed, and just like his lack of guilt, he  _ really _ didn’t care. 

It was a bit like the part of him that remembered that this was probably temporary was having a half hearted argument with his own more primal urges, which he couldn’t remember ever being quite so talkative. 

‘You know what would help you sleep?’ Those primal urges seemed to be saying. ‘A good fuck. That would help  _ loads _ . You should just head right on upstairs and get in bed with Phil! This plan is literally flawless! There is no conceivable way that it could go wrong! Fuck him senseless enough and you might even be able to convince him to let you have a snack! Bet the chip wouldn’t go off with permission. It’s not like you’d  _ kill _ him if you only took a little. Like, a sip. A pint. A few pints. He’s a slayer, he’d heal up quick. You’ll get a better meal than cold pig’s blood, and a fuck, and it will be brilliant. You’ll see. Again, literally flawless plan. Can only go extremely well. It will be  _ fine _ .’

The rational part of Dan wanted to tell his Id to go fuck itself, but that logical voice was a hell of a lot quieter than it usually was. It was having a hard time making itself heard over the endless stream of probably bad ideas that the rest of him was starting to find extremely tempting. 

“I do  _ not _ want to snack on Phil.” He said out loud, as if letting some of those rational thoughts leave the solitude of his head might help them regain some ground in his extremely unbalanced inner struggle. “That’s fucking weird. I don’t want Phil’s blood, and I don’t want to fuck him, so let’s just quiet down and try to sleep again, okay self?” 

Despite his best attempt at literally talking himself into submission, it didn’t seem to be working. He made no moves to return to his earlier position slumped on the sofa, and instead found himself turning back toward the front hall and making his way up the stairs. He was pretty sure that his id was actually letting off celebratory fireworks in his head. 

This  _ was _ a terrible idea, of course, but that wasn’t going to stop him from going along with it anyway. 

***

Dan had been right about the fact that Phil definitely wasn’t asleep. When he opened the door without knocking, his gangly friend sat up abruptly in bed, staring in his direction with apparent confusion, looking rather tired, but otherwise far too alert to have actually been sleeping. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep either. This is… I’m freaking out a bit. Verging on an existential crisis..” Dan didn’t even think about the words that were coming out of his mouth; they weren’t true, at all. He was, in fact, a lot calmer than he had any right to be in this situation, but his voice sounded uncomfortable and awkward, and a bit scared, even to his own ears. He wondered vaguely when he had become so manipulative, and why he didn’t feel even remotely bad about it… Probably the soulless thing, again. 

Phil, for his part, seemed to buy the panicked act completely, as he just sighed and scooted over to make room on the right side of the bed without a word before flopping back down against his pillow. Dan took the opportunity without a moment of hesitation, shutting the door behind him and making a beeline for the new spot on the bed, slipping under the comforter beside Phil. He hesitated for a moment as his rational mind reminded him that this plan was terrible and he should probably have  _ felt _ terrible, but the part of him that was suddenly all about physical satisfaction won out as he scooted closer, throwing an arm across Phil’s stomach and pressing up against his side, his forehead resting against Phil’s shoulder. 

The reaction was immediate, although it wouldn’t have been obvious at all if it weren’t for those new vampire senses of Dan’s. Phil didn’t say anything immediately, or react visually, but Dan could hear his heart rate speed up just a touch. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke.

“What are you doing, Dan?” Phil’s voice was quiet, and his tone carefully measured.

“Cuddling. I thought it might make us  _ both _ feel better.” Dan replied casually, even as he tightened his hold around Phil ever so slightly, his hand lightly gripping his hip, and his thumb moving to brush softly at the bit of warm skin that was exposed where Phil’s t-shirt had ridden up. That slightly elevated heart rate of Phil’s was steadily increasing, and for the first time, Dan realized how odd it felt that he didn’t even  _ have _ a heart beat at the moment. He pushed that thought away, because thinking on it too much might have actually managed to freak him out, and a panic attack was the last thing that he wanted or needed right then. “There’s nothing wrong with a little platonic cuddling, Phil. Especially when you find yourself trapped in a television show. That’s the sort of situation that really necessitates a little friendly comfort.”

Phil sucked in a breath, and Dan looked up from where his face had been more or less pressed into the older man’s arm to see him nodding. Phil’s blue eyes were staring directly back into his own, and it would have been so  _ easy _ to just lean up and kiss him, but Dan didn’t want to rush- or rather, he did want to rush, but he didn’t want Phil to freak out on him either. He need a bit more convincing first. 

Dan kept his gaze locked on Phil’s and bit his lip; he was half playing up his nervousness and half actually nervous now. He may have been lacking in a few basic human emotional responses now, but affection certainly wasn’t one of them. He and Phil weren’t exactly strangers to cuddling, but he couldn’t remember when they had last been quite this close. After a moment of simply staring and chewing at his lower lip, he spoke again. 

“Do you remember cuddling in your bed the night we met in person?” He questioned, his voice low, and Phil finally seemed to break free of the nervous silence he’d fallen into, as he let out a snorting sort of giggle at the question. 

“Of course I do, you spork. I’m not so old as to have gone senile yet, you know.” 

Dan chuckled too, and was pleased to see that Phil finally seemed to be relaxing a bit more under his touch. He brushed his thumb over that exposed bit of skin again, and was even more pleased when Phil gave an involuntary shiver. “I know, it was a rhetorical question, you idiot. I wasn’t expecting you to actually think you needed to answer it.” He grinned up at Phil despite the jokingly annoyed tone, and started to trace small circles with his thumb on Phil’s skin. Phil’s eyes fluttered shut for just a moment before he opened them again, reinstating their eye contact. “This just reminded me of it, you know? You, me, a strange bedroom.” Dan paused to give a short laugh. “Well, strange for me, anyway. I suppose your bedroom wasn’t exactly strange for you, so this time it’s a  _ bit _ different.”

“Well, my bed _ mate _ was pretty strange.” Phil replied with a bit of a sideways smirk. “I hadn’t met many teenage boys so willing to jump into bed with a random man they’d met on the internet before you.” And oh, yeah, this conversation had definitely taken a turn for the flirtatious. Dan was not about to complain about that fact. 

“I’m sure you were just relieved to know for a fact that I wasn’t a fifty year old man who’d just been catfishing you using topless photos of my emo son.” 

“I was fairly confident that you weren’t. It would have taken a lot of work to keep up that charade through multiple video calls.”

“I could have just been paying said emo son to chat with you for me.” 

“Alright, fair enough. You could have been a fifty year old man with Philnapping plans. I’m glad you were actually you. Even if you still had the Philnapping plans.” 

Dan laughed at this, although he went quiet for a moment. He knew exactly what it was that he wanted to say next, but he hadn’t quite worked out how, precisely, to say it. After a lengthy pause, he decided to just be completely blunt about it. “Do you ever regret the fact that we never did anything beyond that one kiss?” 

The kiss Dan was referring to wasn’t something that they talked about, ever. A heat of the moment thing that had happened during the filming of the first phil is not on fire, predictably when Phil had seen fit to tackle him, and Dan had decided to respond by kissing him. It hadn’t quite turned into an outright snogging session, but there had been a definite bit of tongue, and things were definitely starting to get heated when Phil had broken their contact and mumbled something about how they should probably stop. Dan had agreed, and they had simply gone on as if it hadn’t happened, with the mutual unspoken understanding that it was for the best, because they were already realizing how important they were to one another. It simply hadn’t seemed worth the risk. 

Phil looked a bit like he’d just been slapped at the fact that Dan had brought it up, and he went rigid again, any hint of relaxation gone in that instant. Dan was starting to regret having asked, thinking that he might have fucked up his chances there, but then Phil let out a shaky sigh and spoke. 

“Of course I’ve regretted it. I do think it was the right decision, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never doubted it.” 

Dan nodded and licked his constantly chapped lips, attempting to moisten them a bit in preparation for what he was about to do. Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned up to press his lips against Phil’s. He figured that this might result in him getting kicked unceremoniously out of the bed, but it had seemed like the right moment to risk it anyway. 

He did not, in fact, get kicked out of the bed. After several seconds during which he might as well have been kissing a CPR dummy, Phil respond by kissing him back and even parting his lips with a groan, allowing for Dan to slip his tongue between them to meet Phil’s, and fucking hell, this plan was turning out to be a  _ lot _ more successful than Dan had been expecting. He gave Phil’s hip a squeeze and then shifted so that more of his weight was on top of the older man’s, even boldly pushing one leg in between Phil’s thighs, effectively causing Dan to half straddle him, and he let out a little sigh of pleasure as Phil’s hands automatically made their way to Dan’s hips, grasping onto him as if he was a lifeline.

He pulled back slightly, but only to kiss his way down to Phil’s throat, because the audible thrumming of Phil’s pulse was far too tempting to ignore as he placed several open mouthed kisses against the side of his neck. He couldn’t help but suck at the flesh over his carotid artery, hard enough that Phil was most definitely going to have a hickey. He could practically taste the blood, and it was very hard to resist just biting down- he could even feel his face starting to shift as his brow gained those ugly ridges, his very being preparing itself for the rush of sweet blood that he could so easily access. 

The memory of the pain from the chip was enough to dissuade him from this particular urge; his brow slowly smoothed out again, but it was a very near thing. 

“...Dan.” 

Dan could hear that Phil was speaking, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he pretended that his friend was just mumbling his name because he couldn’t go moaning it with the kid in the house. This theory was slightly supported by the fact that he could feel the beginnings of an erection pressing against his hip, although if he was honest, it really hadn’t sounded like an indication of pleasure. Regardless of why Phil had said his name, Dan opted to respond by continuing to pepper kisses along his neck, while letting go of Phil’s hip in order to slide his hand up under his shirt instead, pushing the fabric up slightly. 

“Dan.” Phil’s voice was still quiet and a bit shaky, but this time there was a definite edge of seriousness to his tone. Dan promptly decided that he wouldn't like whatever it was that Phil was trying to get his attention to say, and kissed his way back up Phil’s throat to kiss him on the lips again before grinding his hips down against Phil’s in a further attempt to distract him from his thoughts. 

This last part of Dan’s plan backfired, as that was when he found himself being unceremoniously shoved off of the bed, and the next thing he knew he was flailing his limbs awkwardly in a failed attempt to catch himself before he hit the bedroom floor. Despite his attempt at saving himself, he landed on the ground in a heap, and it took him a moment to compose himself enough to sit up so that he could see Phil, who was staring down at him with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck was that, Phil?!” Dan questioned, as anger bubbled up inside of him; a mix of annoyance at his sudden case of blue balls, and embarrassment at the way Phil had needed to end it. 

“I should be the one asking you that!” Phil hissed in response, his voice quiet despite the audible panic in his voice. “What the- what  _ was _ that?” 

“I wanted to kiss you, and you didn’t seem to fucking mind up until you went completely mental! In fact, your  _ obvious fucking hard on _ seems to indicate that you were enjoying it as much as I was!” Dan was aware of the fact that he seemed to be on the verge of throwing a literal tantrum, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed as though anger was one emotion that he not only still had, but that he could now barely seem to control. He got awkwardly to his feet and stood over the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and making no effort whatsoever to hide the obvious evidence showing through his jeans that he had, in fact, been enjoying himself. 

“ _ Dan _ . You- I…” Phil was apparently at a loss for words. He trailed off, simply gaping for a moment, before finally managing to find his voice again. “You can’t just kiss me. That isn’t okay.” 

Dan’s stomach churned and a lot of that boiling anger suddenly evaporated, because he knew Phil well enough to tell from his voice when he was genuinely upset, and Dan was fairly certain that he was actually fighting back tears at this point. Apparently, he still cared enough to feel bad about  _ that _ . 

“Why not?” Dan questioned, a bit of concern edging into his own voice now, even though a part of him was still seething about this turn of events. 

“You just can’t. I got carried away there, yeah, but I shouldn’t have let that happen. You’re not yourself, and I should have realized that much, much sooner.” Phil hesitated here, drawing a deep breath, although it was a very shaky one. “When we get home, I won’t be the one that regrets this.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dan questioned, despite knowing exactly why Phil had said what he did. 

“I just mean that you won’t want this when we get home. That’s all.” 

Phil sounded far too mature and rational for Dan’s liking, but he didn’t have a valid argument to make. This didn’t stop him from  _ trying _ to argue, of course. 

“How do you know?” 

“What?”

“How do you know I won’t want it once we get home?”

Dan was standing, very confidently, at the foot of the bed, and Phil didn’t seem to know what to do with the question that he had asked. 

“...I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s how you’ll feel, but your reactions to anything involving us haven’t exactly been… positive, Dan.” 

“Well, maybe that’ll change now!”

There was a long stretch of silence as they both simply stared at one another, and then Dan decided he’d had enough. 

He’d just turned to leave the room when Phil piped up. 

“You can stay, you know.”

Dan paused, despite himself. A large part of him wanted to just continue walking away, regardless of how he might have felt, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

“...Really? You’re not going to have a panic attack about this?”

“I might not let you try to snog me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here.” Phil mumbled, his voice a bit awkward. He paused for a moment, then reached down and picked up a pillow off of the floor, setting it in the center of the bed. “That’s the great wall of Personal Space. The city of Philsville and the hamlet of Danshire made an agreement centuries ago that the citizens of Danshire are not to cross the wall.”

Dan truly wanted to laugh at Phil. Maybe even slap him and then walk away. That wasn’t an option, though. Instead, he simply did as suggested and lay back down on the bed, turning so that his back was to Phil. 

“You’re literally the biggest idiot that has ever existed.” He commented dryly. 

Phil let out a genuine laugh, and Dan instantly knew that he hadn’t messed up as badly as he’d thought. 


End file.
